


Heavenly Bodies

by die_traumerei



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Body Worship, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Heaven, Other, Sexual Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23045272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: Crowley has thoughts about Aziraphale's body, and how much he loves it. And how unlike Heaven it is, when you really look at what Heaven is.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 218





	Heavenly Bodies

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads-up: Aziraphale is described as 'fat', but the term is clearly loving, affectionate and positive. Also, deviating from my usual, this A&C have an allosexual relationship, and them having sex is (lightly) described.
> 
> This is likely part of an ongoing series around body positivity and our ineffable husbands, but I'll wait until I at least write a second before I go making a series :)

It wasn't something that Crowley would ever say aloud. It would be misconstrued by basically everyone, to begin with. It could _far_ too easily be taken as a judgement of Aziraphale, or even an _insult_ , which was not to be borne.

(Not that Crowley didn't regularly insult Aziraphale, and not that Aziraphale didn't, frankly, earn every one. But he only insulted about certain things. Things that were true, to begin with.)

Even Aziraphale, who would understand the real meaning of what Crowley was saying, might take it the wrong way. So it wasn't something Crowley would  _ever_ tell him. He didn't like hurting the angel. He did by mistake, sometimes, now and again, and it cut Crowley to the bone every time. Made him no better than angels, really. 

So Crowley, who knew the truth of what he was thinking, never said this one truth aloud. Because it wouldn't be understood, and it might hurt, but it wasn't any  _less_ true.

Aziraphale's body was in no way heavenly. Or Heavenly, to be proper about it.

His body was incredibly strong, under a thick layer of softness. When Crowley took his hand, he was always a little surprised, because it was so square and strong and plump. He remembered when Aziraphale had worked hard in fields, or doing some other heavy work, and calluses had formed. His hands had been hard, sometimes, but now they were soft, and his nails manicured.

Aziraphale's arms were the same; strong enough to haul Crowley into a bridal carry without a second thought, but soft and fleshy and made entirely of curves and soft, round shapes. When he hugged Crowley – gently, he was always so gentle, aware of how much space he took up and how strong he was – it was intensely warm and safe and soft.

And his belly! The best place in the whole universe for a nap, and that was that.

(That was a lie. Crowley loved to lie with his head on Aziraphale's tummy and his arms around his hips, and that would have been all he ever asked for in the world, but Aziraphale would finger-comb his hair and stroke his neck and sometimes, oh, the best times, would trace the lines of Crowley's tattoo with a fingertip, and Crowley would fall asleep like that, everything soft and his angel loving him. And  _that_ was that.)

Aziraphale's waist and his legs and his feet and  _particularly_ his thighs were all poems of their own. Especially when they were wrapped around Crowley. Double-especially when Crowley's face was buried between Aziraphale's legs, making him scream, and all his senses filled with soft angelic flesh. 

Aziraphale was fat, and beautiful, and handsome, and Crowley worshipped his body. Literally, when permitted. With tongue and hands and kisses and gazes. With sex, and cuddling, touching and affection. (He'd worship with words if he could, but they never came out right – c.f. not telling anyone that Aziraphale's body wasn't Heavenly.)

But Aziraphale's body wasn't Heavenly, was the thing.

Heaven had flung Crowley out, rejected him and sent him out of Grace, all for asking questions.

Heaven, when he went back, was cold and hard-edged. Aziraphale could be hard-edged when he needed to be, but it wasn't natural. And he never was with Crowley.

Heaven mocked. Aziraphale never did. Oh he was a catty bitch, but that wasn't mockery. (Also, he was  _hilarious_ , and Heaven never was.)

Heaven wasn't soft. Aziraphale was.

Heaven was colourless. And it was true that Azirpahale's skin was fair, his hair white-blond, his eyes often pale except for when they were brown or dark blue or forest-coloured. He wore creams and blues and pinks and golds, and never grey, and never pure white.

Heaven was perfect. Aziraphale limped a little when it was very cold, from a wound older than the universe, and he worried too much and he was self-righteous and judgemental and was definitely, totally wrong in every opinion he held about  _The Wasteland_ . Aziraphale gave Crowley things to argue with, and challenged him and changed and learned in return. When he limped, Crowley made him sit down and made him tea and dug out his old walking-stick. He groomed Aziraphale's feathers and kissed him and made love to him achingly slowly, a thing that would never happen in Heaven.

So, there it was. Aziraphale's body wasn't Heavenly. But that wasn't the kind of thing you could say aloud, so Crowley, having made the discovery, kept it to himself, and watched the milk steam for the cocoa he was making them.

He melted the chocolate in when the milk was perfect, and poured it into mugs. Aziraphale got a dollop of whipped cream and a little shake of some rainbow sugar-stars Crowley had found the other week. Crowley liked his without cream, though he dropped in a handful of the stars, since they were awfully pretty.

“Here you go,” he said softly, not wanting to disturb as he put the mug by Aziraphale's elbow. 

“Oh, my dear!” Aziraphale looked up and smiled at him, and set his book aside. “What a treat.”

“You asked for some cocoa,” Crowley pointed out, bemused.

“I did? Oh, dear. Must haven been lost in my book, I beg your pardon,” Aziraphale said. He cupped his mug in both hands and exclaimed over the pretty stars. And exclaimed again after taking a drink. “My very dear, you make this better than anyone I've ever met.”

Crowley grinned and kissed Aziraphale's shoulder. “Demonic secret.” Unable to resist, he kissed Aziraphale's cheek, soft and plump under his lips. He left a pretty teal lipstick mark, which was even better.

Aziraphale giggled and turned his head and kissed Crowley properly. “You're very good to me. Thank you, Crowley.”

“It's just cocoa,” Crowley mumbled, staring at his lap. 

Oh no. Oh  _no_ . Aziraphale's arm was coming around his shoulders and pulling him close and he was soft and warm and literally probably constructed solely for Crowley to cuddle him. He'd once seen photos of a baby monkey who ignored a fake wire monkey with food in favour of a fake soft monkey without. It had kind of hurt to look at the pictures, but Aziraphale was soft  _and_ he loved Crowley back, so Crowley focused on that. And drinking his cocoa.

“You can go back to your book,” he offered, after they'd snuggled in silence for a little bit. “I'll just hang out here.”

“No,” Aziraphale said. “I mean, thank you. But I think I'd rather spend time enjoying being with you.”

“Ngk,” Crowley said, and huddled a little closer to Aziraphale's soft, loving, delicious, sexy, un-Heavenly body.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> [dietraumerei.tumblr.com](dietraumerei.tumblr.com)


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